


Paper Cuts

by orphan_account



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not gay," is the first fucking phrase that slips out of his mouth, and he feels like punching himself in the damn face. "I mean it, I'm not. I'm not gay, but I like guys sometimes, and I know that makes it sound like I'm gay but I'm <i>not,"</i> and his voice legitimately fucking breaks and he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He's making a damn fool of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Cuts

He tries to be subtle, he really does; but Dan’s never been too sneaky, and frankly, one can't offer up gratuitous amounts of lunch money on a daily basis without arousing some amount of suspicion. His explanation to his parents was as simple as rising lunch prices; the coverup he gave to his sister (who had been a little more keen to spot Dan’s lies) was trickier to formulate, but not by much. Dan realizes that forking over spare cash to Strippin every day in a vain attempt to garner his interest was, perhaps, not his proudest set of decisions, but if there was a way to get rid of those shivers that shot down his spine every time Sam’s gaze lingered a bit too long on the patchy stubble on Dan’s jawline or the curl of his fingers around the spine of his Trigonometry textbook, he would have done it by now. 

He's tried so hard to love girls, he's tried for eighteen fucking years but he's tired of trying and he's tired of pretending to be something he's not, and every time Strippin shoots him that sideways look and curled-lip smirk he feels every barrier he's ever put up crumble at his feet. Dan's so exhausted from wearing masks that he's beginning to think that it might not be all that bad to just let go. 

He's begun to let his mind wander at night as he ghosts his fingertips over his belly and through his hair. It's dangerous but he does it anyways, emulating someone else's touch when the moon shines through his curtains and illuminates his room just enough to keep him awake. He thinks of Sam's eyes and arms and mouth, of how those lips would feel brushing his, how soft his hands would feel entwined with his own. Sometimes, on his particularly dark nights, he lies in bed for hours dreaming of Sam's arms wrapped around his waist, and how incredible it would be to just lay his head on his chest and feel his heartbeat. Every night he yearns for something he'll never pussy up enough to let himself have, and every morning he gives Strippin everything he can get away with, just to feel the warm glow of his attention for another moment. It's not healthy by any means and it does more harm than good, but Dan's addicted and he's gotten away with it for long enough. He keeps this secret for months until one day, one fucking day, when he's just a little too eager. Maybe he smiled too brightly when he gave Strippin the extra money, or maybe he took the cash out a tad too fast, but either way it didn't matter, because Arin looks up from his sketchbook with a quirked brow, and Dan swears he can see the exact moment it all clicks into place in his friend's head. He starts to panic, starts to wonder what would happen if everybody knew, if _Sam_ knew, and his face must be a fucking sight because Arin looks right back down to his messy scribblings without so much as a word. 

\----

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

He's at Arin's house, just like every other evening, and he was really _really_ hoping Arin wouldn't make him fucking talk about this- 

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's cool. But I just thought that, you know, it might be easier to air it out or... something." It makes Dan's heart break a little, because he _does_ want to talk about it. He wants to stop feeling like there's this part of him that's toxic and can't ever be mentioned. He wants that more than anything, and so he inhales shakily, steels himself, and turns to face his best friend on Mega Man-clad bedsheets they're sprawled on. 

"I'm not gay," is the first fucking phrase that slips out of his mouth, and he feels like punching himself in the damn face. "I mean it, I'm not. I'm not gay, but I like guys sometimes, and I know that makes it sound like I'm gay but I'm _not,"_ and his voice legitimately fucking breaks and he feels tears prick the corners of his eyes and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He's making a damn fool of himself. 

He's acting so childish and he fucking knows it but Arin's just sitting there patiently with concern in his eyes, and Dan feels fucking awful for making him worry. 

"I believe you." 

It's one of those phrases that Dan never thought he'd hear, not while talking about something like this. Everybody just brushes it off as denial or teenage confusion and the fact that his best friend is here, looking straight into his eyes and saying that he _believes him_ is enough to make Dan's heart swell. 

"Are you bisexual?" Arin asks hesitantly, and Dan can't help but be honest. 

"I don't know. I don't know what I am. I just like a lot of people, I guess," and Dan knows that sounds weak, but Arin nods his head affirmatively. 

"And... you like Strippin." And there's no more avoiding that, is there? Dan nods and blushes.

"So, what's your plan to seduce this guy?"

"I'm not going to fucking seduce him, Arin." 

"Why the hell not?" 

"Because he's _straight!"_

"No teenage guy knows for sure they're straight, Dan." 

It's hard not to be a little annoyed. Arin's acceptance is touching, but he doesn't need false hope. "Even if he was gay, I still wouldn't actually ask him out. I mean, I don't even know how to do... things." 

"Things." 

"Like, sex things." 

Arin gives a dramatic eye roll. "That's a stupid fucking reason." 

"I don't want to embarrass myself! What if I'm sucking his dick wrong? What if I don't pull off fast enough and I choke on his jizz? I'll be coughing up jizz all over his carpet and he'll have to scrub out the stains. Do you really want Strippin's gunky wet carpet to be on your conscience?" Dan smiles in spite of himself when Arin starts laughing uproariously. "I'm serious!" 

"Then don't choke on his spunk," Arin chuckles. "Problem solved." 

"It's not that simple!" 

"I'm pretty sure it is." 

"Okay, whatever. What the hell do _you_ know about blowjob techniques, anyway?" Dan feels a twinge of satisfaction when Arin's cheeks start to redden. 

"I know enough." 

"Then by all means," Dan says, "Enlighten me." 

"It's not something you can just tell. You need to experience it firsthand." 

"Wow, just gonna jump right into the dick sucking, huh? At least buy me dinner first." 

Dan's oddly comfortable with this kind of banter. It's sexual, yeah, but it's light and feels like any other joke they'd share. With Arin, there's no pressure to say anything he doesn't want to. Even while talking about sucking cocks, he feels safer and more secure than he's felt in a long time. Maybe that's why when Arin says, "Yeah, I should probably just kiss you first. It's the gentlemanly thing to do," Dan doesn't think too much of it. 

"And I thought chivalry was dead. I don't need you to teach me how to kiss, jackass. I think I can figure that out on my own." 

Arin pauses, eyes wide. "Wait. You mean, you don't actually know how to kiss?" 

"It shouldn't be that hard." 

"Well, yeah, but Strippin can't be your first kiss! You don't want him to think you're a bad kisser, do you?" 

"What the fuck are you insinuating, Arin?" 

"I'm not _insinuating_ jack shit. I'm flat out telling you that you're going to fuck this up. I, for one, refuse to let you scare this guy away just because you're too stubborn to let me teach you how to kiss properly." 

"Arin, are you... offering to kiss me right now?"

His friend's face turns beet red. As funny as the sight is, it reminds Dan that this conversation is taking a turn into dangerous territories. 

"I mean, if you want me to help you out, I wouldn't say no. What else are bros for?" 

"And I thought _I_ was the gay one." 

Arin sputters, "It's not gay! It's... it's helping out a bro. Just bros helping bros, right?" 

Dan's going crazy. He's either going legitimately crazy, or that ice cream Mrs. Hanson gave him earlier was laced with some hard shit, because he's actually considering taking Arin up on this. 

After a long pause, Dan looks his friend straight in the eye and asks, "Just bros helping bros?" 

Arin nods vehemently. "Exactly." 

They stare at each other for a long moment, and he tentatively reaches his hand forwards. Arin's fingers are warm on the nape of his neck, stroking and tickling the whorls of hair resting there. He shivers hard at the touch, but is entranced by the sudden closeness of their lips. Arin's eyes slip shut but Dan can't will himself to do the same, too electrified by the chocolate on his friend's breath and his heavy lashes and the beginnings of peach fuzz on his chin. It's an agonizing pause until Arin pushes forward through that last gap of space and Dan's heart stutters.

It's so odd to kiss Arin. This is the guy who watched him smoke for the first time, who would come over to his house when they were kids to watch cartoons. He knows this is all one hundred percent for instructional purposes only, but it's nothing if not jarring. The scratch of their stubble provides an interesting friction, one Dan isn't too sure he dislikes. 

Their lips slide together slowly, gently, an easy and tentative way of setting a pace. Dan's lips part and let out a wispy gasp at the feeling of Arin's fingers curling in his hair, which the other boy takes as an invitation. Arin licks his lower lip, grazing his teeth against the worried skin. It's all a sensory overload and he can't even tell just how high-strung he is until Arin pulls away and pries his hands from the fabric he had been clutching. "Chill, man, you're gonna stretch out my shirt," he laughs. Dan can't muster the mental clarity to do much other than nod. 

"So, do you think that was okay? Do you have a feel for how it's supposed to work?" Arin asks, and he's speaking so nonchalantly that Dan would likely be jealous if his brain wasn't reduced to a puddle of mush and his limbs itching to touch more skin.

He nods again and Arin has the gall to laugh at his speechlessness. It's not even fair, because the screen is unpaused before Dan can blink, and they're back to their normal banter in about half a second. 

\---- 

Dan awakes with a jolt. It's dark and the only light in the room is seeping in through under his door, and the soft rainfall outside belies his horror. His skin is sticky with old sweat and his lungs laboring to inhale, his mind swimming with the fragments of his nightmare, which he's already begun to forget. 

Still trembling, he rubs his eyes and reaches for his glasses. As his fingers fumble on his nightstand, he sees a blurred light. 

Dan's heart falters when he sees Strippin's message. It's a picture of a White Castle burger dripping in grease and cheese, accompanied by a short quip- _absolutely disgusting. will probably double my cholesterol levels. bought it 'cuz i was thinking of you_

He sits there staring at the wall, stomach churning. Amidst his bright smile and rapid pulse he feels a twinge of some tenebrous emotion when he thinks of kissing Arin. Dan promptly shoves it down and messages Strippin back, and they talk well into the morning. Dan can't remember a time his heart has raced faster. 

\---- 

Days later, Dan hitches a ride back to Arin's house after school. He's abysmal at trigonometry, and Arin can't get a grip on French, so some days they'll tutor each other in exchange for trivial favors. It's an admittedly flawed system; neither of them can focus on something like schoolwork for more than a second. Which, perhaps, contributed to Dan's poor record of decision making. 

"Hey, you remember the other day?" 

Arin looks up from his gooey pizza in puzzlement. "What are you talking about?" 

"When we, you know." 

"When we kissed?" 

"Yeah." 

The younger boy's brow furrows. "What about it?" 

Dan can't help but duck his head a little lower. "I just. I don't feel like I have enough experience yet, you know?" 

It's a tense few moments when Dan feels Arin's gaze, and it makes him shiver to know that those eyes are completely and utterly focused on him. Before he can blink, Arin's fingers are tipping his chin up, and their foreheads are pressed together. Dan feels his stomach twist, but staring into Arin's eyes is intoxicating, and his fingers entangle themselves in Arin's hair before he finally closes the gap between them. It's just as dizzying as Dan remembers it, just as heady and addictive. He tries to think of Sam but every sense is drenched in _Arin_ and he feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin. His hands grapple for purchase in the bedsheets and cotton, and Arin's licking into his mouth and it feels like fire. Their lips slide slick and sloppily, forsaking all semblance of tact in their eagerness. They're rough and fumbling but Arin's gentle, so gentle, when he grips his hips and lifts him into his lap. It's a new sensation, but Dan can't bring himself to be bothered by it. He gives a slow, subtle swivel of his hips, grinding down ever so slightly, and Arin's right there with him, pushing his hips up to meet his rhythm. They fall into a slow pace, each pass making them burn even more. 

After what feels like hours, they part lazily, lips still barely brushing. With Arin's soft hands framing his cheekbones, Dan feels a warmth low in his belly that's more of a burn than anything their lips could have sparked. He never wants to leave Arin's arms but their food is getting cold, and Mrs. Hanson will be back from work any minute. Arin lets his arms fall but keeps his hand resting on Dan's as he reaches for the breadsticks. 

"Want to watch a movie?" he asks. "My mom dug up a few old horror films." 

Dan nods, and as they move to sit on the couch, he pointedly keeps their hands pressed together. They're nearly halfway through Nightmare on Elm Street when he finally entwines their fingers, and he can see Arin's mouth curl up into a soft smile out of the corner of his eye.

The room is silent and safe, and Dan feels a sudden rush of bravery. He's drunk on confidence, and turns to Arin and blurts, "I'm going to ask Sam to go to prom with me." 

Arin wheels around with a taut grin. "That's awesome, dude! When are you gonna do it?" 

"I don't think I'll actually be able to do it in front of him. I'll probably have to just text him like a pussy." He hesitates. "Do you think he'll actually come with me?" 

Arin's face tightens. "There's no way he wouldn't. He'd be fuckin' crazy." 

"I don't know about that." 

"Well, I do." It's said with such conviction that it takes Dan by surprise. It warms his heart, and he leans over and plants a chaste kiss on Arin's plush cheek.

"Thanks. That means a lot, man." 

Arin stares at the floor for the remainder of the film, and when he drives Dan home, he doesn't walk him to his door. Until he falls asleep late that night, he has the low, humming feeling like something's been misplaced. 

\----

The bus is a buzz of relentless noise, just like always, but Dan feels the subtle shaking of his phone all the same. His mind is racing, all he can think of is that text he sent, that invitation, and he's horrified. His heart is racing because _fuck,_ what if he's ruined everything? What if he's made a fool of himself? Dan has to steel himself before he unlocks his phone, before he goes to Strippin's contact- 

In illuminated lettering, he sees: _sure, it'll be fun!! we can even get some white castle after. pick me up at eight, yeah?_

Dan thinks he's going to die. His stomach is churning and his gut is twisting itself into knots, and he can't withhold his enormous grin before the sophomores beside him roll their eyes. He feels like he's the luckiest man alive. When the bus nears Arin's house, he practically sprints to the door before knocking furiously. He doesn't even bother to say hello when Arin emerges, and storms right through the door and into the house, heart fluttering. 

"He said yes," he blurts, even as his breath is labored from excitement. "He fucking said yes, Arin, can you _believe it?"_ Arin's smile is wide and tight around the edges as he replies.

"Of course, you doof. What'd I tell you?" 

Dan's feet carry him forwards and he throws his arms around his friend. He's so overwhelmed he feels like he's going to collapse but Arin's there, holding him, back stiff. After a moment, he pulls away from the embrace, and feels Arin's hands gently disentangle themselves from his messy hair. 

"Holy shit. Holy shit, Arin." 

His friend chuckles lowly. "Real extensive vocabulary you've got there."

"Shut up, oh my god, you literally have no idea how crazy this is. This is fucking _crazy."_

"Why are you so damn shocked?" 

Dan gawks. "Because fucking _look at me,_ Arin. Look at me, and then look at Sam. Do you not see about thirty leagues between us?" 

"Not particularly, no." 

"God. You're fucking delusional." There's something odd in Arin's gaze, but he doesn't have time to place what it is before his friend turns away to grab the remote and turns on their old box television. 

"Hey, I don't really feel like watching TV right now, man. I'm too excited to focus on some bullshit show. I gotta talk about it, I gotta get it off my chest, you know?" 

Arin doesn't bother to turn around before he replies. "What's there to talk about?" 

"I don't know. I'm just... really happy." 

It's silent before Arin's staring at him again, and he's still filled with that dark, foreign thing that makes Dan's stomach twist. Have there always been such dark bags under Arin's eyes? 

"If you want to talk, I'm all ears. You know that." 

"Yeah, I know. It's okay, we can watch TV if you want. Just no stupid horror shit again, alright?" 

Arin laughs and shoves his shoulder lightly, and when they plop down on the ratty couch, Dan lets their arms brush. 

As they joke through old reruns, Dan can't silence the seed of worry that's been planted in his head. He remembers stories told by his old friends, friends who have long since graduated and left for bigger and brighter cities. He remembers how they had taken their dates to old motels, how some of them hadn't even been able to wait that long, and had just fucked in their cars. Dan has no idea what to do, no idea what Strippin would like. He's completely inexperienced and can't stop his whirling thoughts, can't risk disappointing Sam. 

No. If he fucked everything up, Strippin would look at him with a small frown and pity in his eyes, but Arin... 

"Hey." 

Dan's heart is pounding, and it leaps when Arin turns around in question. He hesitates, knows that it's so risky to ask, how it stretches that line they've been tightrope walking these past weeks even thinner. 

"You remember all those blowjob techniques you said you knew?" His stomach churns when he sees Arin's eyes open wide as saucers. 

"Dan..." his voice cracks, actually cracks, and his face is crumpled and sad and it's agonizing to see, to know that Dan himself caused him to feel so digusted. 

"Arin, please, I can't ruin this. I can't ruin this for Sam, I need your help-" he begs.

"Kissing is one thing, but... But _blowjobs..._ That's different, Dan. I don't think this is a good idea." 

"It's a _fine_ idea! I don't want to make you uncomfortable, you _know_ I don't, but I can't just assume I'll be good enough the first time around. I've got to practice." 

Arin's face blanches. "You want to... You want to suck me off so you can practice for Strippin?" 

"Yes." 

"Dan, I'd do anything for you, but that's not fair." 

"Not fair to who?" 

"T-To Strippin," he sputters. "If you're going on a date with him, sucking another guy's dick is kind of cheating, isn't it?" 

Dan huffs. "No, it's not!" 

"How isn't it?" 

"Because I don't _like you,_ Arin!" And damn, Dan's not sure he's ever regretted a string of words so much. Arin's face falls fast and hard and it makes Dan's heart ache. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I promise-" 

"Okay." 

It's a long pause before Dan ventures, "... Okay, what?" 

"Fuckin' suck my dick if you want. I don't want you to be nervous over something so trivial, so... Do what you've gotta do. What are bros for, right?" And Dan searches his friend's face arduously, trying to find a drop of insincerity, but he can't find any. They've known each other so long, Dan would see it if it were there. Arin's being dead fucking serious. 

He's flushed with a wave of self-consciousness, and fiddles at the seam of his sleeves before Arin lets out a soft huff and pulls him close for a gentle kiss. It's slow and chaste; an odd precursor to what Arin's letting him do. Dan's struck with a surge of bravery, and begins to trail his fingertips down Arin's chest, feeling out the soft, cushioned muscle. Arin pulls at the back of Dan's neck, letting the kiss deepen. Arin's praised his whimpers, but the heavy moan he lets out when Dan tastes him is nothing if not heavenly. 

He's riding the waves of confidence as long as his mind will let him, and drags his lips away to kiss at Arin's jawbone, neck, shoulder. He's careful not to nip too hard; he doesn't need to leave any unwanted marks, as tantalizing as the thought of bites and love marks peppering Arin's flesh may be. His friend lies back on the couch in invitation and that's when the first chord of anxiousness is struck. 

His shaking hands fumble with Arin's button and zipper, and every inch accomplished feels like a mile. Arin does a little butt wiggle so Dan can slide his jeans down, and he's beyond grateful for the levity. Even something as simple as Arin tucking a curl of Dan's hair behind his ear is a welcome reprieve from this atmosphere laden with such nervous tension. 

Dan tries to regulate his breathing and erratic heartbeat as he tugs down Arin's boxers and- 

"Impressed, Daniel?" Arin quips cheekily, and Dan can't help but let out a burst of laughter. 

"Fuck off, dude, it's just... I've never seen another guy's dick up close before. Give me a second to adjust, bro." 

"It's not gonna suck itself." 

"Oh my god, fucking _shut up!"_ he laughs. "I don't even know what to do." 

"You put it in your mouth and suck on it. It's not fucking string theory." Dan shoots him the most pointed stare he can muster.

"I thought you were the fucking blowjob master," he grumbles. "That's the most horseshit advice I've ever gotten." 

Arin's hands flail helplessly, trying to illustrate some illusive point. "I don't know, just... suck on the head, for starters." 

"Oh my _god,"_ Dan chokes. "This is fucking absurd." 

"I'm just trying to give you help so- _fuck,"_ Dan swells with pride as he feels Arin's cock twitch in his mouth. The younger boy writhes on the couch, toes curling while Dan's tongue teasingly flicks across his slit. "Dan, holy _hell,_ I-" 

Dan pulls off with a slick _pop._ _"Impressed,_ Arin?" 

His friend laughs breathlessly and flicks him off, the bastard. "Fuck off."

Dan takes the head back into his mouth and sucks gently, and starts to stroke what he can't yet reach with his spit-slicked hand. Feeling Arin's skin contract and pulse under him is liberating. He knows his finesse is sorely lacking, but it's so easy to make Arin come undone under him that he supposes his level of skill is irrelevant. And he knows that the instructional element of this endeavor is for him to learn how to make Strippin feel as good as possible, but when Arin gives an adventurous pull at the roots of his hair, he certainly learns something about himself, because it rips a low and desperate moan from somewhere deep within him. It's not a useless piece of information, he reasons, because the hum around his cock makes Arin choke on his own gasp.

He finally gets the nerve to go a little lower, so he takes as much as he can before he starts to gag, and swallows hard. It's experimental, but the way Arin's nails dig into his scalp is very, very encouraging.

Dan sets a steady pace, taking what he can manage, and before long, Arin is stuttering out apologies. 

"Dan, I'm gonna... Shit, Dan, you gotta _stop-"_

He pulls off annoyedly. "Is there a problem?" 

"Yeah, if you don't want my jizz in your mouth, there's gonna be a problem." 

Dan thinks for a moment, weighing his options. "... Do you think Sam would want me to swallow?" And Arin looks like he's about to pass right the fuck out. 

"Are you asking me to cum in your mouth?" 

"It's for science, Arin." 

"Bullshit! You're a fucking idiot, this is so stupid..." 

Dan's not even dignifying him with responses anymore. He rolls his eyes and leans back down, taking Arin into his mouth again with a groan. It's not even a solid minute before Arin's fighting to keep from bucking his hips, and keening out so loud Dan worries the neighbors'll call in a noise complaint. A stuttered warning is all he gets before Arin stiffens and comes. 

He manages to swallow an impressive amount, but despite his most formidable efforts, he pulls away panting, with a string of cum hanging from his lips. The problem is solved almost immediately, however, when Arin sits up and kisses him harder and deeper than he's ever kissed him before. "Oh my god," he huffs as he tucks himself back into his pants. "Oh my god." 

"Real _extensive vocabulary_ you've got there," he jests. Arin laughs, and it's ethereal. 

They kiss again, soft and slow, and it's wonderful until Dan feels Arin's palm drag along his zipper, wrenching a desperate moan from him before he can pull himself away. 

"Arin, you don't have to-" 

He chuckles as he nips along Dan's jawline, grinding down harder on the apparent bulge in Dan's ratty old jeans. "Shut up and fucking enjoy it." The popping of his pants' button has never felt like such a relief.

Arin's hand strokes him with purpose, and it's something like heaven. Dan wants to kiss him, _needs_ to kiss him, but Arin holds him at bay as he stares straight into his eyes, whispering words Dan can't even hear over the blood rushing in his ears.

It's not five minutes before he's clutching at his friend's shirt and gasping to the ceiling as he finds his release. After he comes down, he huffs and wipes the fog from his glasses.

"Shit," he breathes, "Now we gotta clean all this spunk off-" 

He's effectively silenced by the sight of Arin sucking Dan's cum off his fingers, tounge flicking out over his lips just to tease. He really doesn't need to inflate Arin's ego any further but it's like his entire vocabulary has withered away and left him staring slack-jawed. Arin, of course, grins so wide in triumph Dan thinks his face might split right in half, and raises his hand in offer of a high five. 

It's nearly flawless. 

"You look funny when you jizz," Arin laughs, shaking his reddened palm. 

Dan smiles dopily as he snuggles up under Arin's arm. "Well, you're no beauty contest winner, either." It's unusually cold for Floridian weather, and having the warmth of Arin pressed all around him is like heaven.

Just as he burrows closer to Arin's heat, guilt crashes over him again. He feels like he's drowning in some dark thing that lies deep in his gut, that coils even tighter whenever he holds Arin's hand or brushes against Sam's hip in the hallways. He can't pinpoint where it's coming from, can't tell why it's there and it _scares_ him and- 

"Hey," Arin murmurs, voice laced in drowsiness. "You're thinking too loud. Calm down." He burrows his face into the crook of Dan's neck and snuggles into him even closer. It's not comforting, not really, but it helps to mute his thoughts for a while, to slow the buzzing in his head. He wonders if he should stay the night there, just fall asleep in Arin's arms where he doesn't have to think beyond his own nose, but he knows that would just confuse him more. As he moves to stand up, Arin's fingers clasp at the hem of his shirt. 

"You're leaving?" 

"Yeah," he sighs, cheeks heating up. "It's... late." 

"Late," Arin parrots. "It's six-thirty. Not even, actually." Dan flinches. Lying makes him sick to his stomach. 

"My mom said she'd be home early, okay?" he tries, and he can feel a sharp edge creeping into his tone that he's not fond of. "What is this, a fucking investigation?"

"It just makes me feel kinda cheap when you _beg_ me to have sex with you then leave immediately afterwards, you know?" 

Arin looks angry. He looks angry and hurt and it makes Dan want to cry. Arin gets grumpy all the time, but it's always comedic, always for a laugh; and to know that he's the reason for his best friend feeling like garbage is revolting. 

"Arin, you know it's not like that-" 

"Then what _is_ it like, Dan? What do you call fucking your best friend for _practice?_ How do you classify shit like that?" 

Dan gulps and stands in silence for a painfully long time. He stands and he waits and he scans Arin's face for every single wrinkle and crease and shadow because he doesn't _know._ And that's exactly what he tells him. 

The way his expression crumbles in resignation is more heartbreaking than anything else Dan has ever seen.

"I'm so sorry, I never meant to-" 

"I know." 

"-I mean it, you know I would never in a million years ever try to-" 

"Hurt me? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not hurt." Later that night, Dan scolds himself for not calling out Arin's bullshit.

Dan doesn't think he's ever left someone on such negative terms in his life. The air is rife with tension and sadness and unspoken words when he grabs his backpack, and he closes the door without so much as a glance when he leaves. When he's in bed that evening, it's as if his whole body is tensed and waiting for his phone to buzz with an incoming message from Arin. It never comes. To have such an integral part of his everyday routine snatched from under him is more painful than he would have thought. 

The worst part is, Dan can't even blame him. 

\---- 

There’s not a whole lot, Dan thinks, that is more embarrassing than having your prom date show up at your door earlier than he should. He learns that, if this particular event happens to occur, it is very likely that your mother will feel the need to engage said ate in a very long and _very_ inappropriate conversation about things like baby pictures and ex-girlfriends. The way Sam beams at him as he finally enters the room doesn’t erase the humiliation completely, but it certainly helps. 

They do all the traditional stuff, of course. Sam pins his corsage and they take tons of pictures and Debbie nearly cries, and Dan smiles so hard at the feeling of Strippin’s arms around him that his cheeks are sore for the entire car ride to the school. They get White Castle before they arrive and Strippin rubs a speck of leftover cheese off the corner of Dan’s mouth affectionately, and he feels like he’s glowing. 

\----

Arriving at the school is oddly dreamlike. Sam opens Dan’s door for him and bows dramatically like a prince, and as they stride into the courtyard Dan feels confident and _proud._ He sees people turn their heads and stare at them, and he beams with the knowledge that, hell yeah, this is his date, this cute adorable popular guy is his fucking _date,_ holy _shit._

They socialize for a while and eat and drink the cheap catering provided by the school. Luckily, Neil brought a flask of whiskey and was doling servings out as an act of charity to those with cups of store-bought punch. Dan makes a mental note to be nicer to Neil from now on. 

Eventually Dan figures that if you’re at a dance, you may as well dance, and so he waits until a slow 80’s jam comes on to turn to Strippin and shyly ask if he’d like to take his twiggy white ass onto the makeshift dance floor. It’s a small miracle that he responds with a bright smile and an ostentatious twirl, and a significantly larger one that Dan doesn’t trip over his poorly-tailored pant legs as he stumbles dizzily to follow his partner. 

Dan decides that dancing with Sam is… nice. It’s slow and reduced to not much more than swaying in Strippin’s arms, but it’s warm and nice and it mutes the unease low in his belly for a while. Eventually, the song shifts to something more modern, and they laugh as students flock to the shitty elevated floor to dance in a fashion that would probably be qualified as some form of public indecency.

The ground is suddenly crowded and claustrophobic and hot, but it’s all so dark and the light is shining on Sam’s face and it’s exhilarating and terrifying and beautiful, and there are bodies dancing and pressing them together and Dan finally falls. He lunges forward and kisses him, right in front of everybody, and it’s soft and wonderful and everything he ever dreamed it would be and Strippin isn’t kissing back.

He isn’t kissing him back, and he’s shoving him away. 

“Dan… what the _fuck_ was that?” 

Realization hits him like a freight train and he wants to sink into the floor and disappear. Dan feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, fear and embarrassment welling up inside him like a geyser. _This is wrong this isn’t what’s supposed to happen-_

“You said you wanted to dance,” he chokes, and great. Fucking great. His throat is constricting and burning and he sounds like he’s on the verge of a meltdown. Strippin looks at him with pity and it’s like rubbing fifty pounds of salt in the wound. 

“Danny,” Sam starts, and it’s already too much. “I just needed a ride; I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything, but I’ve already got a date. You know Brooke, right?” Dan _does_ know Brooke. He knows how her smile is infectious and how she’s popular and funny and social and one-hundred percent in Strippin’s league. It’s so predictable that he forgets to be angry. Guys like Sam deserve people like that; they don’t deserve stupid nerdy boys who fall in love too hard and delude themselves into thinking their feelings are reciprocated. Guys like Sam don’t look twice at boys like Dan.

What hurts the most is that he should’ve known it by now. 

He’s jolted from his thoughts by the growing murmurs and snickers from the crowd around them. Dan’s mind is buzzing with horror and humiliation, and he wants to die right then and there. Frantic apologies fall from his lips and he stutters and trips and shoves his way through the gathering of people, thinking that he may as well throw himself off a fucking cliff because all he does is embarrass himself and annoy others. And that’s the crux of it all, isn’t it? 

Once there’s enough room, he sprints away and doesn’t even bother to think of where he’s going. 

Oddly enough, he’s in a stairwell overlooking the entire event when his abominable physical fitness catches up with him. There’s nothing else left for him to do but sob and hyperventilate and shake like the pathetic waste of space he is, and pray that nobody can hear his cries echoing in the halls. 

But the universe just loves to fuck him over. 

\----

He hears the sound of hurried footsteps outside the stairwell, and Dan inhales so hard he chokes on his own breath. It’s probably a teacher or an administrator, and he’ll have to be marched down to the office in front of everybody and they’ll call his parents, and he’s not sure he can survive another public humiliation. 

When Arin peeks around the curve of the railing, he has the fleeting thought that this might just be worse. 

It’s a long and awkward silence punctuated by Dan’s quivering, muffled sobs, and he’s about to wheel around and spit out at Arin that _yes, he’s fucking crying, yeah he fucking embarrassed himself in front of everyone, is there anything else he’d like to add?_ when he feels his friends arms wrap around him harder and more desperately than he’s ever been held in his life. 

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Arin says. “No, fuck that, this isn’t about me, are you okay? I heard what happened and it’s so awful, are you gonna be alright?” He’s just vomiting hasty apologies and broken phrases and it would probably be pathetic in any other situation, but Dan needs him so badly that it’s like verbal ambrosia. 

“Why the hell are you sorry?” he sniffles, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Ar. I fucked everything up I’m so fucking stupid-“

“You’re _not_ stupid.” Arin gently cards his fingers through Dan’s pathetic attempt at gelled Jewy hair and it makes his heart feel warm for the first time in too long. “You’re fuckin’ brave as hell. And I’m sorry because I made you feel like shit when I should have been there for you. I was an asshole.” 

Dan’s jaw drops as much as it can with his face pressed into the crook of Arin’s neck. “You can’t be serious. I fucked you for _experience points,_ bro. There’s probably not a rectum on the fucking planet that’s bigger than me.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles. “You didn’t know all my shit. I lashed out at you and I wasn’t being fair and I’m so sorry.” And he’s completely sincere, Dan knows he is, but he’s still confused, so he asks, “What shit are you talking about, exactly?” 

It’s quiet for a very long time. It's so silent it's excruciating because Dan's fucked up so much, he's ruined so many things tonight and he can't lose Arin, not when he's just got him back, he _can't._

“… Do you seriously not know?” Arin responds. Dan shakes his head, and Arin chuckles sadly. “I thought my massive boner for you was kinda obvious.” And yeah, Dan _definitely_ did not know that. 

“You wanna fuck me?” he squeaks, and he can practically feel Arin’s cheeks heating up. 

“It’s not like,” Arin sputters, “just a sex thing, you know? Like, I kinda want to fuck you sometimes, and I kinda want to sex you so hard you can’t walk straight, but it’s not that shallow. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you laugh, because you’re my fuckin’ best friend, dude,” he laughs. “You make me happier than I’ve ever been, and... I just want to make you happy too, I guess.”

Dan feels something stir inside of himself, something foreign and untouched and he has no clue how to handle it. It’s warm and bright and _scary._ “Do you love me?” he asks, shaky and unsure. 

Arin pauses and breathes raggedly for a few long moments, and begins to turn away and stand up. “This isn’t fair to you. I shouldn’t have said anything-“ 

“What isn’t fair is you not explaining this to me, dickhead!” he wails, flinching when his yells echo hard in the hall. Dan clutches handfuls of Arin’s tux and he probably looks like a disgusting blubbering mess but he doesn’t even care. “Do you love me?” 

“What’s the point, Dan?” Arin cries. “What the fuck do you want to get out of this? What do you want me to say? I fucking _adore_ you. I love you and every time you say Sam’s name it’s like you’re punching me in the fucking gut. I let you kiss me because I thought that maybe I would get over you, which is stupid, I know, but I just wanted you so bad… and I thought that maybe I could make you want me, too.” 

He pauses, terrified of ruining this, ruining Arin. “What if I told you I wanted you?” 

Arin laughs bitterly. “You’d be lying. You don’t love me like that, Dan. Don’t be cruel.” 

“What if I _did,_ though?” he begs. “Arin, I think I might-"

“Dan, stop.” 

“I’m serious!” 

_"Stop."_

But the thing is, he can’t stop. He’s spent so long trying to push down his feelings that he feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn’t get them all out, and so he grabs Arin’s face roughly and kisses him hard. It’s clumsy and painful in more ways than one, but he needs it like he needs to breathe, and Arin slowly fits his lips to Dan’s in a somber rhythm. Arin breaks away to protest, but can’t make it through a few broken, resigned words before he’s kissing Dan again like he’s starving. 

By this point in the night, Dan should probably have expected something to fuck with him. He really should’ve, but he’s drowning in Arin and sorting through racing thoughts and feelings and piecing together that he really does love him, that he’s a fucking stupid asshole who can’t see two inches in front of his own damn face when he hears a very heavy door being slammed shut _very_ close to them. 

They both jump apart, hearts pounding at the prospect of being caught, when they hear the snickers of a lightweight couple drunk off Neil’s shitty beverages. The laughter dies away as quickly as it came, but Dan and Arin are still left spaced and staring and lost. Breaking the silence with your best friend shouldn’t be this hard, Dan thinks. He _hates_ that it’s this hard. He hates that he wants to kiss and hold and worship Arin because it’s fucked up so much. It’s just been confusing and painful for both of them and it’s fucked them both up so badly that he doesn’t know if they can ever go back to what they were before. 

“I don’t want to be your rebound,” Arin whispers, and Dan pauses. He pauses and he thinks hard because he has to make sure, he has to be positive about his feelings. He has to recognize what every flutter of his pulse means, what every glowing memory of his friend symbolizes. He thinks so hard his head aches and he grabs Arin’s hands shakily, because he can’t afford to scare him away. Not now. 

“You’re not,” he says, but it’s not enough, somehow. “You’ve never been my rebound. You’re more important to me than anyone’s ever been, and I guess it just kinda... took me a while to realize it.” 

It’s not long or eloquent by any set of standards, but Arin seems to understand. His face softens and he exhales a soft laugh that he must have done a million times before, but in that moment, it’s the most beautiful sound Dan has ever heard. 

They kiss again for a while, but this time it’s different. It’s slow and soft and hesitant, and it’s like they’re discovering each other for the first time. Time may feel slow but their lung capacities haven’t changed, and they regretfully break away for air, pressed forehead to forehead. “As romantic as this is,” Arin murmurs, smirking, “I don’t think I want to spend the rest of the night in my high school stairwell.” 

Dan can’t help but laugh. “You asking me to come home with you, Hanson?” Arin blushes and shoves his friend away, bashfully reaching for Dan’s hand a few beats later. 

“If that’s what you want it to mean,” he grins. Dan’s heart thuds while he curls his fingers around Arin’s, and he thinks that everything will be okay. 

\----

Technically, Arin ends up being the one coming home with Dan. He’s not entirely sure what he expected them to do once they got back to his house, but he’s regretting not planning further ahead, because now they’re just kind of… stuck. Arin takes off his suit jacket and throws it on Dan’s couch, and he appreciates the attempt at normality, but the fact of the matter is that it’s _not normal._ None of this is normal, and the two boys end up standing awkwardly by Dan’s door, trying to decide where to go from there. 

Of course, Dan _knows_ where he wants this to go. He wants to kiss Arin all over and feel his skin on his own and be in his arms. He wants that more than anything, but he has no idea how to get there. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Arin wants the same thing.

“You know,” he tries, “I was planning on coming home with Strippin tonight.” 

Arin’s lip curls in disgust. “Are you fucking serious? _That’s_ what you decide to start off with? Smooth.” 

Shit. “No!” he rushes, dangerously close to smacking himself in the face. He’s so fucking dense it’s astounding. “I didn’t mean it like _that,_ I swear; I don’t, like, wish you were him or anything! I just… I don’t know, I just meant that I was kind of looking forward to being with someone.” Arin is standing with his arms crossed, looking severely unimpressed. “Specifically you,” Dan continues. “I would very much like to be with you. Tonight. If you want to, I mean.” And yeah, he probably could have phrased about ninety percent of that monologue better, but he’s never claimed to be the most poetic speaker.

Arin’s face softens, just a little. Dan decides he’ll take whatever he can get. 

“Define ‘being with someone,’ Avidan.” 

Dan blushes. “You know what I mean, asshole. I mean that, if you’re down for it, I would love to spend the night with you. And to clarify, I mean that in a totally sexual way.” The dramatic eye roll he receives is enough of a gesture of acceptance for him to be satisfied with himself. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot. You know that, right?” Arin mumbles. Dan gives a giddy chuckle and nods. 

“I absolutely do, don’t worry.” If the way that Arin is sucking a bruise into his collarbone is any indication, Dan thinks it’s safe to say that he doesn’t mind all too much. 

It feels like coming home. Memories of Arin’s mouth and hands are flooding back in technicolor, and it’s almost more than he can take. He wants more. Dan shoves him in the direction of the stairs, and by some miracle of god, he doesn’t trip. Arin seems to get the hint and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You want to move this to the bedroom?” he asks, all swagger and faux-sexiness. Dan can’t help but laugh and clutch at his friend’s shoulders even tighter. 

Walking up a flight of stairs while trying to grope and make out with your best friend is significantly harder than Dan had previously anticipated. After several minutes and very close encounters with slipping on the carpet, they reach the top, and Arin promptly pins him hard against the wall. 

“Fuck,” Dan gasps. “Fuck.” He’d have preferred to remain coherent a little longer, but in his defense, Arin was grinding his thigh against his dick, and so he really can’t be blamed. It’s just not fair. Arin grinds a little more before breaking away with a low groan. 

“Can I suck you?” he asks, and Dan responds with a high-pitched, “In the _hall?”_

Arin smiles devilishly. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he murmurs, and promptly drops to his knees. The blood pounding in his ears keeps him from hearing all the embarrassing noises pouring from his lips as Arin mouths his cock through his pants, but he gets the feeling that’s probably a good thing. 

“These pants are a rental,” he gasps weakly, but Arin doesn’t look like he cares very much. Dan decides he’s willing to pay a few extra dollars for dry-cleaning.

Every notch his zipper slides down is torturous, but the way Arin nuzzles him with his cheek afterwards almost makes it worth it. Those lips had felt heavenly on his neck, but the sensation of having them wrapped around the head of his dick is a whole other kind of religious experience. Everything is so hot and wet and Dan can feel his jaw hanging open in a way that probably looks ridiculous, but appearances aren’t really his top priority at the moment. He’s more concerned with not coming down Arin’s throat. 

He’s about to complain when he feels Arin take his mouth off his cock, but then his thigh is being hoisted over his friend’s shoulder and that heat is right back on his balls. He whines so loud he claps a hand over his mouth for fear of waking up the neighbors. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Arin grunts. He nips and licks gently at Dan’s perineum, and he has to bite down hard on the flesh of his palm to keep from crying out. Arin pulls off and kisses the tendon at the joint of his upper thigh, and yanks Dan’s hand away from his mouth. “Want to hear you,” he murmurs, before ducking back down and sweeping his tongue over that ring of muscle, and Dan nearly yells. 

“Shit, Arin, _shit,"_ he whimpers. His leg twitches and he wraps it even tighter around Arin, needing some sort of stability because right now he’s about ready to collapse in a boneless heap on the floor. Everything is building and building and his whines have evolved into breathy, helpless moans, and Arin, the _bastard,_ pulls away. “What the fuck?” he breathes, and it comes out far more desperate than he means it to. 

“I don’t think eating you out against a wall is the classiest thing I could be doing,” Arin laughs. He lifts Dan into his arms and wraps his legs around his waist, and Dan’s stomach twists because, _damn,_ Arin’s fucking strong. He wonders what else he could do with those muscles. 

Arin carries him into his bedroom and dumps him unceremoniously onto the mattress. He doesn’t find it particularly funny, but with the way Arin’s kissing him, he figures he can forgive him just this once. Dan breaks apart for air every once in a while, heaving in labored breaths before pulling Arin right back on top of him again. After a few minutes, Arin latches onto his neck again, and it’s overwhelming. “Fuck me,” he gasps, unfortunately much louder than it needs to be. He really hopes the neighbors don’t tell his parents. 

When he opens his eyes, Arin is gawking at him. “Did you just ask me to fuck you?” He stutters. Dan blushes furiously. 

“Yeah.” 

It’s a long pause before Arin speaks again. “So, just to confirm, you mean, like, me-putting-my-dick-up-your-ass fucking you?” 

Dan rolls his eyes, trying to hide how nervous he actually is. “That’s typically what _fuck me_ means, dumbass. There’s lube in the drawer.” He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Arin move so fast. It's almost kind of entertaining.

For someone who’s so eager- and don’t get him wrong, Dan’s feeling this very much himself- Arin’s surprisingly careful. And it’s not like Dan expected him to be rough or anything, but it’s kind of sweet, in a sexual way. “Are you okay?” he asks, slowly sliding one lubed finger into him. Dan nods, but Arin still goes slowly; stroking and rubbing inside him, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s not bad at all, just different. The fact that it’s Arin doing it makes everything more special and intimate in a way Dan’s not entirely sure he’s ready to analyze. 

“More,” he gasps, and Arin is happy to oblige. The second finger is a stretch, but it’s not too bad. The fact that Arin has taken his cock in his mouth again definitely, _definitely_ helps. The burn fades away pretty quickly, and Dan lets himself revel in everything. The stars visible from outside his window, the kisses being pressed along a vein in his thigh, the warm feeling of Arin slowly stroking his hip. It’s not necessarily that he wants a third finger inside him, but what he _does_ want is to feel Arin as soon as possible. Unfortunately, as expected, it’s… not very pleasant.

Arin peppers kisses down his belly, murmuring apologies while Dan whimpers into the air. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, and if he weren’t three knuckles deep in Dan’s ass, he might even call it cute. He’s about to respond that, yes, he’ll be fine in a minute, when Arin hits something in him that makes him wail, and yeah: his neighbors are _definitely_ telling his parents about this. 

Arin pulls his fingers out immediately, face struck with horror, and Dan’s never been more annoyed with that beautiful motherfucker in his entire life. “Don’t stop, you asshole!” 

“Wait,” he ventures, “That was… good?” 

“Arin, if you don’t put your fingers back in my ass in the next five seconds, I’m kicking you out of this fucking house, I swear to god.” There haven't been many times in his life that Arin has actually been issued a threat that made him pay attention. The fact that he obeys him without a second of hesitation almost becomes a point of pride. Ultimately, Dan is just very grateful that Arin’s a good listener.

It takes a little while for Arin to find that spot again, but when he finally hits it Dan has to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out again. He’s not sure if Arin’s being generous or a sadist, but either way, he’s not just hitting that spot again, he’s _rubbing_ it. Dan can barely take it for a minute before shoving him away and gasping, “I’m ready, _fuck_ Arin, _please."_

Luckily, Arin doesn’t question him this time. 

Dan moans as he pushes into him, so slow it may as well be torture. He’s caught between needing time to adjust, and needing to feel Arin moving inside him _right fucking now._ Ultimately, the pain wins out, and he clutches at Arin’s arms and whimpers into his neck. He can feel the muscles in Arin’s arms twitching, and just feeling the thrum of blood under his skin is more intimate than anything else he’s ever felt in his life. 

"Move," he whispers, and he does. It's slow and hesitant, and it's everything. It all feels so strange and wonderful at the same time, and they fall into a rhythm and it's perfect. _They're_ perfect. 

_Arin's_ perfect. 

Arin, who's kissing him like he's a treasure. Arin, who wormed his way inside him the very first day they met, when Dan found him hiding in a bathroom stall with an iPod and a sketchbook. Arin, who's filling him and surrounding him and who's _everything._

It's all so bright and amazing that when Arin hits his prostate again, it's over. He moans and scrapes his nails down the skin of Arin's back and he doesn't even have the presence of mind to feel bad about it. Dan comes hot over both their chests and whimpers Arin's name like a mantra, and his partner follows soon after, pulling Dan up and kissing him feverishly.

Coming down from their orgasms is more emotional than Dan would have thought. Arin holds them both up, breathing hard but with eyes open, staring straight at Dan as if he's some kind of miracle. They finally slump against the bedsheets and huddle together as close as they can manage. If Arin notices that Dan's eyes are wet, he doesn't say anything.

The room, apart from their slowing breaths, is completely silent, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable in the least. Dan snuggles in even closer to Arin, tucking his head in the crook of his friend’s neck. Sex is fun as all hell, but he has the fleeting thought that this might just be better. It’s so quiet that he’s startled by Arin whispering softly into his ear as he strokes his thumb over the back of Dan’s hand. “I lied, before.” And if Dan’s head weren’t so hazy right now he would probably be very concerned. 

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs back. 

“Yeah. You look really, really cute when you jizz.” Dan giggles into Arin’s skin and feels something warm in his chest he thinks might be a little bit like love. 

“I wish you could stay with me the whole night,” Dan mourns softly. 

“Who says I can’t?” 

“Have you forgotten that my parents are gonna come home eventually?” he asks. “What are they gonna say when they see us snuggling naked in my bed?” 

Arin smiles breezily, far too unconcerned with the situation. “They’re gonna say, ‘Wow, Dan finally fucked that Arin kid. He’s got good taste.’” 

“I’m serious, you dick,” he laughs, half-heartedly punching Arin’s arm. The younger boy kisses Dan’s forehead affectionately. 

“I sleep over at your house all the time. They won’t even think twice about it, I promise. Just give me some of your clothes so they don’t have to see all these hickeys you’re so fond of giving me.” 

Dan’s not sure what makes him blush more: the sight of those blue and purple bruises framed by bite marks, or seeing Arin wearing his clothes. His ratty old Rush shirt is cut too small and stretches around his biceps. Normally Dan would be bitter about his own wiry frame, but he’s too busy admiring Arin’s arms to think twice about himself. As handsome as Arin looks and as soft as the cotton is, he can’t help but be sorry that he can no longer feel the bare warmth of his chest under his fingertips. Shyly, he twines their fingers together, needing to feel any degree of closeness he physically can. 

The room falls into silence once more. Dan shifts his head to rest on Arin’s chest, and Arin pulls him close and nuzzles into his tousled hair. He thinks he can make out some barely-there whispers Arin is breathing above him, but he’s too tired and enthralled by his friend’s heartbeat pulsing under him to understand what he’s saying. The words are so soft and reverent that he doubts he was meant to hear them, anyways. 

Dan falls asleep as Arin draws light, intricate patterns on his palm, and the last thought that floats through his mind before he starts to dream is that starting the second he wakes up tomorrow morning, he’s going to make up for every single moment of time he and Arin have wasted. 

He can’t wait to get started.

**Author's Note:**

> Arin and Dan are both of age in this fic. I know that may be a concern for some people, so I would like to state that this is not an underage relationship.


End file.
